Forgotten Pasts
by Miss Andromeda Prime
Summary: The pasts of the Decepticon's were long since forgotten, their sparkling years far behind them. The bad times had been conquered and erased...or so they thought. Multiple flashbacks of multiple Decepticons. Sequel to my story Past Years! COMPLETE
1. Megatron

_**Forgotten Pasts**_

_**Megatron**_

He was outside mettling with his latest project, a controlled Cybertronian tank with silver plating, which he had been building with his father. Actually, his Dad had stopped building with his for awhile now, and Megatron (with intelligence well beyond his five years) had been piecing together the energon-powered box underneath the tank when his mother came running outside.

"Megatron!" she raced towards him and scooped the boy up in her deep purple arms. "Thank Primus you're alright!"

Confused, he pulled away from his mother. "What's wrong, Mama?"

"It's Unicron..." she cried with panic. "Hurry, we have to get the shuttle docks!" Immediately she set him down with a kiss to his helm and transformed into her Cybertronian mode, opening her back doors for him to climb in. Without any warning, her tracks spun out on the steel and they were off.

"Where's daddy?" the worried mech asked, trying to stable himself as Zinteda drove wildly throughout the buzzing streets of Bronze Capital, weaving in-between the overturned Cybertronians. A familiar emotion -fear- crept it's way into Megatron's processor.

"Don't worry, hon, he'll be fine," she answered him.

Within minutes the two stopped to a screeching hault at the shuttle docks, were hundreds of Cybertronian Autobots and neutrals were boarding huge orange and red shuttles. Megatron gaped at their huge size, the screaming and explosions around him fading with his awe. Zinteda untransformed and scooped up her son with one arm and pressed a slender hand to her spark, where her unborn sparkling rested safely within her.

Despite the worry about his home and toys back at home, the shuttle was somewhat..._cool. _It was packed with Autobots and neutrals -mostly femmes and sparklings. He and his mother hardly had a place to sit, only did they when a woman with three femme sparklings scooted over and offered a place to the panting and drooping Zinteda.

His perch on his mother's lap provided a safety Megatron was comfortable with. He rested his helm against her sparkplate, listening the calming hum beneath her dark purple and silver plating. His optics dropped into a lazy droop when she was still.

"Unicron has come to claim his chosen ones," the femme whispered to his mother. "Many are being forced into the army he calls Decepticons; sworn enemies of the Autobots," she began to cry. "My husband was taken this morning by a drone..."

Megatron listened with interest.

"Shh, you'll scare the sparklings," Zinteda said.

The woman began sobbing now. "What are we going to do if there's a war? Zeta Prime surely won't be able to protect the core..."

"Shh! He'll do fine..."

The rest of the conversation dropped. It amused him, the thought of war. He'd always liked playing solider and pretending to kill the bad guys. But he had heard good things about Zeta Prime, how strong and wise he was, the defender of the core and keeper of the Matrix of Leadership. Megatron smiled. Maybe someday he'd be ruler of Cybertron?

He could only hope.

_Seven Years Later_

"Hand it over, Optimus!"

"No! It's mine, Megatron!"

Twelve-year-old Megatron glared his optics at his seven year old brother, who clutched the last remaining helping of the yellow energon; the sweetest food they had left in the apartment. Megatron had claimed it during lunch hour at school. It was rightfully his. The thieving brat Optimus didn't have any rights to his! It was his fair and square.

"I claimed it, glitchhead! Give it to me! I command you!"

"You're not my senior officer! NO!" he shouted back. Optimus took off from the small recharge room and quickly made his way down the hall, running into their mother as Megatron took off after him.

"Mechs! Mechs come back!" she screamed, taking off after them.

They didn't stop. Optimus ran out the door and down the steps, into the hot Cybertronian day. They were forbidden to go otuside, due to the war still raging around them. But niether of them cared for yellow energon was on the processor. A distress Zinteda ran out after them.

"Come back this cycle, Optimus! Right now! Megatron, stop chasing your brother!"

"Give it back, creaton!" Megatron boomed.

Optimus shook his head, running around their yard. "No!"

"OPTIMUS! Get back here!" Zinteda cried.

But it was too late. Optimus had jumped the fence, pushing by pedestrians as he carried the yellow energon with delicate hands. Megatron jumped the fence after him, plowing into the pedestrians with no care whatsoever. With longer legs and bigger thrusters, he soon grabbed onto his brother's arm and jerked him to a stop.

I said, hand it over, maggot!"

"You can't make me," Optimus mocked. "Nanananananana-"

"That's it!" a sudden hand clamped onto Megatron's arm, metal on metal sounding throughout the air. With a clank, she grabbed Optimus and yanked him from his brother's hold, anger in her optics. Both boys, now an arm-length away, watched as she plucked the yellow energon from Optimus' clutching hands. "You both aren't getting any for at least a week," she glared.

"But M-om! I claimed it!" Megatron growled.

"I don't care," she shook her helm. "You both are grounded. Big time," she grabbed their arms and began to drag them back towards the house. Megatron fought the entire way until he finally broke free.

"You'll regret this! Just wait and see!"

"Megatron! How dare you!" Zinteda chided. "Get in the house! You're father will deal with you when he gets home," she snapped.

"No!" he backed up a few steps and ran the other direction, his mother calling after him.

"Megatron! Megatron, come back! Megatron!"

He didn't stop running.

_Four Years Later_

The cold, hard steel of the dumb-bell slammed to the floor with a shaking thud, colliding with the other mech's chest and pinning him to the floor. Sixteen-year-old Megatron ran towards him, anger in his eyes. With a roar, he grabbed the hundred-pounder with one hand and tossed it behind him with a mighty thrust. It clanged to the ground twenty feet across the gym.

"I said get up!"

The Seeker did so slowly. "I already told you, Megatron, I have no energon! I haven't had a change to get any from the holding facilities-"

"You lie!" he boomed, grabbing the seeker by the throat. "Give it to me, and I'll consider sparing you're life before I choke it out of you, maggot!"

"I already...told you..." the Seeker choked. "Don't...have...any energon..."

He sneered at the Seeker and released his hold, letting the maggot drop to the floor. "You get me some before tomorrow's first fueling and you keep your life, you pathetic insect," he snarled.

"Y-yes, Megatron. Starscream hears and obeys," he said with a hit of sarcasm. It disappeared from his optics when Megatron cast him a warning glance. With a slight sneer, Starscream rose to his transportation servos and scittered out the door of the gym.

"Megatron...?" came the meek reply from the doorway, which Starscream shouldered out of. Megatron gave a slight glance over his shoulder and took deep breaths through his olfactory sensors. He then focused his attention on the wall in front of him. Light footsteps sounded behind him. "...are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Owatonna," he snapped behind him.

The femme shrank back before touching his shoulder. "Are you sure? Starscream looked upset,"

"I said I'm fine!" he barked. Owatonna pulled her hand from his shoulder and clasped them in front of her, looking down. Megatron sensed her fear behind him. What had made him so angry? He had forgotten. Had someone found out about their sparkling? They'd sworn to keep it a secret.

"Oh...alright," she said gently. "I wanted to make sure you weren't...hurt."

"I don't get hurt," he snarled.

She smiled meekly at his back. "I know that, love," the teenage femme slipped in front of him, sparkling blue optic locking onto his. He felt lost in her grace and meek power. "I was just concerned."

"You have nothing to be concerned with," he shouldered past her. "My life is my own, Owatonna."

She nodded. "I know that. But don't I have a part in that?"

"I don't know,"

Owatonna chuckled. "You're so strong, Megatron," she praised his strength-she knew that would earn her brownie points with him. She let a slender finger trace down his jawline, and she reached on tip-toes to kiss his lips. He tensed beneath her palms, but relaxed when she bit his lower lip lightly. For some reason, Megatron had always went weak when she did that. He didn't quite get it, but it was just one of his many weakness when it came to her. "And I love you."

"And I to you..." it sounded to him almost forced. His strong hands found their way to her thin waist, and her slender yet strong arms wrapped around neck. They shared another kiss -and bite- before the thought of their growing sparkling within her reached his processor. He pushed it into the deep data banks of his memory, and focused on her.

He regretted his decision about leaving her for Unicron.

_**But each of us was given grace according to the measure of Christ's gift. **_**~ Ephesians 4:7**


	2. Starscream

_**Forgotten Pasts**_

_**Starscream**_

The five-year-old mech studied himself in his mother's armor plating as she held him over her shoulder. He smiled at himself. He'd always known himself to be a distinctively handsome mech, with silver, blue and red coloring. His father's good looks had rubbed off on him. His mother set him down as she continued to talk with a fellow Seeker.

"Mo-ther!" he called up to her. "I'm tired, can't we go home now?" He whined.

His mother waved a hand at him. "Hush, Starscream! I'm talking!"

"But mother!"

"No buts! Go off and play with your brothers," she ignored his protests and finally he stomped away, mumbling useless five-year-old remarks.

He evaded the other children and finally sat himself on bronze bench, arms crossed in front of him and lower lip stuck out in a pout. His mother never listened to him, even though he was the oldest. He found himself higher than his brothers, more educated in the sciences and in reading Cybertronian. He was far too special to be ignored in his own processor. But, no one ever seemed to care.

"Screamer!" his brother, Thundercracker (who was younger than him by five cycles) bounded over to him, teal and white coloring shining the sunshine of the day. "Come on! We need another player for civil war!"

"No," he turned his head in the other direction. "You know I don't play 'civil war', TC!" he said in a disgusted hiss.

He pouted. "Pleeeeease?"

"No!" he snapped back. His brother glared at him and ran off to find the completion of their "Thrine", Skywarp, the youngest of the triplets. Starscream watched the sparkling Seekers run around like idiots. Didn't any of them know that Seekers had a higher calling than looking like morons, as his father had called them.

He guessed not.

The time passed slowly as his mother talked with the other Seeker mom's, Starscream still firmly planted on the bench. He sneered at whoever came his way, and scared the toddlers off. He didn't feel like he was five. He felt like he was fifty, and he liked it. You're was smart enough to be fifty he told himself.

"Surprise, Screamer!" suddenly, a chilling flood of energon poured over him, from two protective-covering cups above his head. Starscream screeched and spun around, eyes flashing at his siblings, anger boiling beneath his plating. Dripping wet with energon fuel, his brothers laughed at him.

"What was that for?" he whined, on the verge of tears.

"Oh, Screamer's gunna cry," Thundercracker mocked.

Skywarp sniggered mercilessly. "Oh, boohoo, Screamer's all wet! Nanananana..."

"Stop it!" Starscream shouted. "Stop it you insects!"

They didn't stop.

"Mo-ther!" he suddenly cried. "Mo-ther!"

"Crybaby," Thundercracker laughed.

"Starscream's a whiner-baby, Starscream's a whiner baby!" They teased jokingly.

Starscream fled the scene in a full-bore run, desperate to be alone.

_Seven Years Later_

He focused on the microscope in front of him, optic centered on the eye-piece. Once it was centered directly on the examination strip, Starscream reached for the blade next the microscope. Grasping it firmly in his hand, he closed his eyes and exhaled sharply. With a quick jerk, he ran the blade across his exposed circuitry, creating a small crack in his main line. Immediately the purple liquid leaked from the crack. Starscream let the stream drop onto the examination strip before repairing the line.

"Fascinating," he breathed. A sudden knock on his door caused him to jump and turn around in his chair. He rose and quickly unbolted the door, making his way back towards his desk. The frame of his father, Ulysses, stepped inside, optics glowing in the dimness of the room.

"What are you up to, son?"

Starscream shrugged. "Nothing," he minded his tone. "Just...studying."

"Very good," Ulysses sounded impressed. "I came to bring you to dinner."

"Not hungry," Starscream mumbled.

Ulysses approached the desk. "Your mother told me what happened at school today."

Starscream rolled his eyes. "Oh, how Megatron beat the energon out me? How wonderful for you to know,"

Ulysses laid a hand on Starscream's shoulder. "It's not the strong that survive, son. It's the intelligent."

"You've said that before."

He chuckled. "Only because I love you."

"Thundercracker and Skywarp aren't smart," he turned to face his father. "You're saying they won't survive?" the thought pleased him about riding his life of his obnoxious brothers. Being an only child pleased him greatly.

Ulysses chuckled again. "Perhaps," he shrugged. "Your brothers are strong warriors, Starscream. But where there's warriors, there must be intellects as well."

"I don't want to be an intellect!" he shouted. "I want to be a warrior!"

Ulysses gave him a strong scowl. "It's not what you are that defines you, Starscream. It's who you are."

"Then I must be no one," he mumbled.

"You're a smart mech, son," Ulysses turned to leave. "You have decide who you are."

Starscream scowled at his father's back, regretting his choice to be smart other than strong.

_Four Years Later_

"No, wait, Transita!" the sixteen-year-old mech transformed and soared after his lover, pulling to a stop when he caught up to her yellow and silver jet-mode. She said nothing and activated her thrusters, boosting ahead of him. Starscream jetted after her, determined to talk to her.

"Please, stop!"

The Cybertronian Seeker transformed instantly, activating her feet thrusters and spinning around to face him. Starscream did the same and shrank back when she came within an inch of his face-plates. Nervous, he swallowed hard.

"I told you if I caught you stealing from my father I'd leave you!"

"I'm only doing it-"

" 'For us, Transita', 'I'm only trying to please you,' scrap it, Starscream!" she shouted. "I'm tired of running into the galaxies with you, sacrificing my education because your wanted against Megatron! I'm tired of it!" she pointed a very long and lean metal finger at his face. "I'm done. I can't do this anymore! You promised me intellect and riches!"

"I'm working on that, my dear," he hissed just the way she liked it. "I promise you, I will rule the Decepticon Youth's one day!"

"That's a pile of slag, Starscream," she thrusted away from him. "Until I stop hearing and start seeing, consider yourself a single mech!"

"No, wait, Transita! Please, let's talk about this!"

"No!" she cried.

"Transita," he whined, jetting into blackness of space after her. Her glowing frame lit up the sky around them, second only to the brightness of the stars around them. Starscream grabbed her arm and laced his fingers with hers. "Please. Just one more chance, my love?"

She sneered her optics at him. "Fine, one more! But if you frag it up I'm gone. Megatron offered a pretty irresistable position of a mistress-"

He smiled wickedly at her, pulling her hand to his lip-plates. "Once I rise to power, my dear, Megatron will be groveling at our feet,"

She rolled her eyes.

"I promise."

She left him a steller-cycle later.

_**But He knows the way I take; When he hs tried me, I shall come forth as gold. **_**~ Job 23:10**


	3. Soundwave

_**Forgotten Pasts**_

_**Soundwave**_

Sitting on his father's lap and watching him activate all kinds of space-bridges and drones and weapons, the five-year-old mech had a hard time sitting still. Fingers itching to press all the pretty buttons, he reached for one when his father wasn't looking. With a quick grasp of his sons hand, Cartridge quickly shook his helm, indicating that it was a no-go.

"Negative, soldier," he smiled at his son. "We can't press that one yet."

Soundwave's optics sparkled with life. "May I press one, father?"

"Yes," he nodded. "Press that one." he pointed to a orange button and indicated with a nod that he could press it. With an eager finger, Soundwave pressed the button and clapped his hands together. With an activation code pressed in by Cartridge and a confirming signal from Teletran One, he pointed the the sky were one of the sky-defenses activated and began dispatching a satellite. Soundwave watched with anticipation as the satellite launched into space.

"What does it do, father?" he questioned.

"Well," Cartridge laughed. "It takes a hundred-mile-radius scan, Soundwave." be began activating more buttons and switches.

"For what?"

"Counting the populi for surrounding cities. So we have the exact number of bots living around us. It helps Zeta Prime keep track of how many schools need opened, energon plants need built, and so forth."

"Interesting," the sparkling-genius began to run scans on himself, making sure he had recorded all the correct information. Once secured, thank to his father's Interlock security program, Soundwave sent them away to his data banks for future reference.

He'd always been fascinated with science and engineering. His father had helped him built his first energon-powered car, which had taken a few days to do. Soundwave had what his mother called a photographic data bank, which meant he remembered everything he did. And he did remember. It was fascinating his love for knowledge. For his young age of five years, Soundwave was superior than the other sparklings around him.

A beeping sounded on the monitor.

"What's that?" he asked.

Cartridge read the Cybertronian script. "The populi scan."

"And?"

His father laughed. "There's about 2.7 billion, son."

He filed that away in his banks too.

Suddenly, an alarming sound broke through the air and the air-lock doors behind them slammed open. Countless running bots sped past the control room and Cartridge stood immediately. Within moments a familiar pink and white femme was in the room.

"Strikeout? What's going on?" Cartridge approached his spark-mate, Soundwave running into her arms. She knelt and picked him up. Soundwave immediately used his father's program to hack into the main control center, where he found the information necessary to asses the situation.

"Insecticon invasion," he blurted.

Their eyes widened. "What?" Cartridge vocalized.

"He's...right?" his mother questioned.

The two adults looked at one another. "Where?" Cartridge asked. Soundwave looked between them, perplexed.

"The east sector," she rushed out the door, left arm transforming into a ion-blaster. His father was armed with a semi-automatic blaster and a shotgun. They ran into the flood of bots ahead of them, who were all running for safety. "We have to cut them off, they want the core!"

"I'll cut them off at the entrance of the east sector," Cartridge shouted. "Get the kid home, Strikeout!"

She nodded. "Alright! Be safe, Cartridge!" charging her blaster, she took off in the opposite direction from Cartridge. Soundwave looked over his shoulder and watched for the last time as his father disappeared around the corner with other security bots.

_Seven Years Later_

Dropping from the shadows of the main air-duct, Soundwave quickly ran a scan of the building. Fourteen guards on the lower floor, and five above him. Two unconscious ones left at their stations, thank to him. Silently making his way towards the computer main-frame, he pulled up the fire-wall to the main-frame and began his hacking, connecting the transport cord into the computer.

Too easy, he told himself.

Once he was inside, he quickly tapped away at his keys, keeping in processor the two guards were being roused as he worked by another three guards. Quickly bringing up the main-frame file codes, he searched for the one he needed, keeping in processor that the guards were surveying the area. They'd never catch his scrambling energy signature, but they would find the security systems down and track the location of the hack. Which would lead directly to him.

The twelve-year-old hurriedly scanned the thousands of files, each running by the screen in hordes and hordes of Cybertronian script and numbers. Optics scanning over each, he sent them to a secure file in his data banks and began looking again, in case he missed anything. The GPS in his link told him that the guards were getting closer. Alarms immediately went of in his head. Soundwave had to hurry.

What was this? The main-frame flashed a message before him which read in Cybertronian: _"System shutdown in: 09..."_Not good. Finally just sending the entire data bank to his own personal bank, Soundwave unplugged himself from the computer and began to cover his tracks. Restoring the main-frame to it's original state, he finally exited his visit and stole away from the computer and out the door.

He kept the countdown in his head, bringing up a sketmatic of the building. They'd closed off all main exits? Not a problem the twelve-year-old told himself. He could just cover his energy signature with his mother's, which would place his as hers. And then, once that was done, he'd activate his invisibility tactic and slip out of the building unnoticed.

"You, stop there!" Soundwave tenses immediately, looking over his shoulder. He gulped once and slowed to a stop. "Hands up slowly, kid!" the guard pointed a low charged blaster at him. Soundwave obeyed.

"State your designation." he ordered.

Soundwave said nothing.

"Your designation! Now!" he barked again.

"Designation unauthorized," he backed up slowly, ready to activate his invisibility shield. "Unaccessable."

"Freeze! I said freeze!"

_Click._

Soundwave took off around the corner, the blaster shots ringing out behind him. Weaving his way in and out, he dodged the gun-fire ringing out behind him like a song of war. Ignoring the fleeting attempts of a chase, he made his way towards the main-floor elevator, and rolled inside before it closed and went down. The doors closed, and the elevator began its descend downward.

And while he rode the elevator, Soundwave took careful measure to fix the grade on his arithmetic test.

_Four Years Later_

"Soundwave! Soundwave, wait up!"

The teenage mech stopped where he stood, spark immediately picking up in his chest. He focused his optics on the running red and black femme heading towards him, smile wide and optics sparkling with a life he could only wish for. She pulled up to a stop beside his storage containment and leaned against it, arms crossed over a stack of glowing data pads. It was Terra, and he was dumbfounded.

"You are Soundwave, right?"

He nodded slowly. "Affirmative." Was she getting his message? He'd probably have to lose the lingo and start talking normally. If he could do that out of a monotone.

She looked down."I heard you were pretty good with physics?" Soundwave nodded again, turning to face her. "Affir...That is correct." She wasn't confused?

Terra smiled. "I was wondering if it would be okay if, uh, well-"

"I could help you if you like." his sentence was short and choppy.

She offered him another soft smile. "Oh, really? I mean, would you?"

"Affirmative."

Now she beamed at him.

Terra was the prettiest femme in his class, and she was one of the smartest. Apparently she didn't understand physics, but you couldn't have your energon and eat it to, right? She also seemed to understand his lingo, which not even his own mother could dicipher. It encouraged him to know that someone could at least process what he was saying.

"How's my house sound?"

Soundwave gave her a confused look in reply. "Correction: residential housing has no form of communication..."

She laughed. "Take it easy, Soundwave," she touched his broad arm. "What I meant to say was, would you coming to my house be alright?"

"Declar..." he closed his optics and toned it down. "That would be fine, Terra."

She nodded slowly and gave him another soft smile. "Great. I'll see you on Wednesday?"

"Affirmative."

He hurried to his next class, watching her go over his shoulder. Once he entered his wiring classes, he couldn't stop thinking about her. She was pretty, sleek and smart, and that turned him on. Soundwave had never been one to like the opposite sex, but when it came to Terra, well, everything inside him changed.

"Soundwave?" he pulled out his trance outside the class. It was Terra again. "I forgot to tell, you,"

"Go on,"

She giggled femmeishly. "You can come by my house after school. You know where it is?"

"Affirmative."

"Great. I'll see you then, bye!" she waved at him and took off.

Soundwave watched her hurry to her next class, armor plating shining in the bright lights of the high-school. He could feel his spark rate return to normal after she was out of sight. Then with a sharp exhale and a hand to his forehead, he mentally told himself he was a glitchhead. But how were intellects supposed to talk? Not like that?

He'd have much studying to do on teenage behavior before Wednesday.

_**Carry out each other's burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ. **_**~Galatians 6:2**


	4. Slipstream

_**Forgotten Pasts**_

_**Slipstream**_

Not many of her fellow Seekers could look at the five-year-old femme and not be afraid of her. She had a permanent scowl attached to such a delicate but strong body, had anger in her eyes, and power to her name. The small sparkling had a desire for power and acceptance, even when she was rapidly gaining respect at the Junior Miss Kaon pagent that year.

Her aunt was busily shining her armor plating-which consisted of the putrid pink and silver decals her uncle had painted on her a few weeks ago. Slipstream insisted she hated paint -and freshener- along with organic fueling, but no one seemed to care. Over the weeks she'd been doing this stupid preparation, she had decided that there was one thing they couldn't make her do-smile.

"Oh, my you look radiant!" the Seeker-aunt known as Gemstone clapped her hands together, admiring her work of beauty sitting before her. "You're the prettiest femme here, Silii!"

"My name is _Slipstream_," the sparkling seethed at the femme before her. Despite the joy bubbling around the dressing room of the JMKP backstage, Slipstream was anything but happy. She hated all this hubbub her aunt was forcing her into just because she didn't have a daughter of her own. "Slipstream. Slip-Stream." she pointed out again.

"Oh, hush dear," Gemstone fussed. Something which Slipstream ignored floated over the monitor attached to the wall in the dressing room. With another quick polish to Sliptstream's shoulder, Gemstone took hold of her hand and yanked her off the chair. The five year old protested all the way towards the metal curtains.

"Now, Silii, give me a pretty smile on your lips, okay?"

Sliptstream scowled harder.

"Silii, please, give Auntie Gemstone a smile, alright?"

The bugles sounded and the femmes began to file out on stage. Slipstream yanked her arm from her aunt's iron-grip and filed out on stage, trying her best not to scowl. The smile on her lip-plates was small and forced-clearly fake. She'd be judged unfairly, this she knew, which meant she'd lose the competition for Junior Miss Kaon this year. It didn't matter to her one bit.

As long as she did what she wanted to do.

She missed her mother and father terribly and their home in Flight Park. Slipstream had liked going to a military school for girls and learn all about the Cybertronian Civil Wars. Most of all she liked learning about the battle Primus and Unicron had gotten into, and how they'd split apart in the war for good and evil. Slipstream had always found Unicron's story more believable and more interesting. She told herself one day that she'd become one of the Decepticon Seekers.

"And we have here Miss Silii, this years candidate for Kaon City," the announcer-bot spoke into the microphone, which carried her name far and fast throughout the area. Stepping into the spotlight, Slipstream quickly struck her pose -as was required- with a mechanical and well-practiced ease. Then, she slipped from the spotlight and into the shadows, back towards the dressing room to find her aunt.

_Seven Years Later_

Aiming the cross-hairs directly at the hole-littered target, Slipstream charged her blast to a dull charge, preparing to fire the shot at her practice target. She was about to do so until her concentration broke by the familiar sound of rapid, heavy footsteps echoing and shaking the earth behind her.

"Sliiiipstreeeeeeam...!"

_Thunk!_

Taking an unexpected step backwards due to the now unbalanced state of the femme Seeker, Slipstream regained her balance with a wave of her transformed arm and stood straight. Looking down at her transportation servos, which were cluttered with two new additions, she groaned.

"What do you two want?" the twelve-year-old femme growled at them.

The two beamed up at her. "Please play hide-and-go-visible with us, Slipstream! Pleeeeease?" the one on her left leg begged. Sliptstream shrugged and sighed deeply, face-palming herself. Why must she be cursed with the two most obnoxious cousins in the galaxy?

"Not right now," she replied sharply. "I'm practicing."

They wrinkled their faceplates. "You _always _are practicing," the femme on the right leg whined. "Please come and play! Daddy said you would!"

_Slag you Uncle Jumpstart._

"Yeah, Slipstream, _please_?" the other whined even louder.

Slipstream groaned and canceled the charge in her blaster, transforming her wrist again to its normality. Sighing again, she motioned for the twins to get off her servos so she could move. Then, covering her eyes and dropping to her skid-plate, she began counting.

"One, two, three, four, five..."

"HURRAY!"

"...six, seven, eight, nine..."

The two twin sparklings immediately took off, scampering away from the counting femme.

Once she reached one-hundred, Slipstream opened her eyes and brought up the ESTS (energy signature tracing system) and tracked down her two obnoxious femme cousins. Once this game was over, she could get back to target practice. Slipstream began her search and followed the ESTS readings.

"Oh Limelight," she called sarcastically. "Wherever could you be...?"

A sudden roar and crash of metal made Slipstream jump.

"Limelight? Neon?" Slipstream jumped to action, activating her thrusters and leaping into the air. The energy signatures on her ESTS screen began rapidly coming her direction, indicating the two twins were high-tailing it back. But why? They must've broken something, which she'd get blamed for later. Then she saw the two running twins headed her way.

"What did you two do...?" Sliptstream's voice trailed off when she saw what she was staring at. High above the twins, jetting with rapid speed towards them, were two Decepticon jets. Slipstream's optics widened as she took off with extra power towards the femme twins.

"Limelight! Neon! RUN FASTER!" she commanded to them. She was about 100 yards away when she transformed her blaster. The twelve-year-old's lower-powered ion cannon didn't stand a chance against them, but Slipstream had to do something. Focusing the highest charge she could produced, she fired at the two Decepticons.

"Leave them alone!" she commanded. Slipstream dove down towards the ground and outstretched her free hand to Limelight, who jumped to try and catch it. The sparkling's fingers bristled by hers before falling back towards the earth again. Slipstream dove farther and picked both of them up, transforming to her small Cybertronian jet-mode, twins on her back.

"Hang on!" she barked.

She rocketed back towards her aunt and uncle's estate, the Decepticon's in pursuit. Slipstream checked her scanners. Sudden alarms and sirens began to whirl around in her processor and Slipstream checked her radar. _'Incoming Missile'_ beeped frantically on her radar screen.

"NO!"

In one instant, a hard, fast-flying missile collided with her wing, which made her shriek. She was able to evade it enough for only it to graze her, leaving a decent sized scrape mark in her wing. Screeching and trying to regain control of her systems, her load seemed suddenly lighter. Slipstream checked her scanners.

"Limelight, Neon!" she looked down.

_'Incoming Missle'._

"NOOOOO!"

_Four Years Later_

"I swear to you, when I'm outta here, I'll rip your faceplates apart!"

Slipstream grabbed the reinforced metal bars which served as her restraint against the two Decepticons gawking at her from behind them. Sinking to her knees after snarling and glaring at them like some-sort of creature, she finally sunk to her knees out of exhaustion, her own energon leaking from fresh wounds in her plating.

This had been going on for four years now, ever since that fateful day she'd lost the twins. Her aunt and uncle had never heard of her capture-from what she knew. All the sixteen year old Slipstream knew was that she was locked up day after day, after her daily reproduction programming. After finally giving up after three attempt escapes, Slipstream just decided to stick with what she could accomplish: hate and grueling remarks.

"Petty threats won't get you anywhere," the mech across the way told her once the two guards were gone. Slipstream wrapped an arm around her aching abdomen, and grabbed onto one of the bars for support. She looked up to the orange and yellow bot across from her she'd known has Hotrod, an Autobot. "Trust me, babe, I've tried."

"Yeah, well, they seem to work plenty fine with me," she winced.

The Autobot chuckled at her. "Why do they hate you so much anyway?"

She didn't answer for awhile, but did when he didn't stop staring at her. "Probably because I haven't chosen sides yet."

"You're a neutral?"

Slipstream nodded.

"Oh, well that explains it then."

Slipstream rose to her knees and sighed deeply. "They won't release me until I've chosen,"

"Or until you're no use to them anymore."

"How many sparklings can one femme have? That last one was my third in four years," she closed her eyes. "Three sons, all Decepticon,"

Hotrod said nothing.

"I hate them," she uttered under her breath. "I hate them with every fiber of my being."

Hotrod sat back in his cell. "That makes two of us."

"I'll never be one of them. Never."

His optics sparkled. "Congratulations, sister."

"I won't be lowered to the state of your kind either," she snapped. "Autobots are just as pathetic as Decepticons,"

"They'll make you choose you know," he said solumnly. "Especially since you're still a kid."

"I'm not a child!" she snapped. "And I will get out of here! Someday!" she shook the bars as hard as she could before finally slumping into a wounded state.

Hotrod gave her a pitiful look. "I promise I'll get you out of here, Slipstream, when my comrades come for me."

"I won't be rescued by pathetic Autobots!" she snarled.

"Would you rather offline here?"

She gave this some thought as she activated her repairing systems, relaxing as her body began to seal the wounds in her armor plating, thanks to the technology of nanno-bites. The thought rolled around in her processor even as she was dragged the next morning for more reprogramming.

If need be, yes.

_**Pleasant words are a honeycomb, Sweet to the soul and healing to the bones. **_**~Proverbs 16:24**

**A/N: That's all for this story, everyone, and please, I do need some reviews for this, it's killing me! If anymore interesting past-ideas come into my head, I'll post them either here for Decepticons or in 'Past Years' for the Autobots! Thanks again everyone. :)**


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